All Is Mended
by tigerdreams
Summary: The Furinkan High School drama club emerges from its Ranmaproof bunker to stage another production. Of course, strange supernatural forces seem drawn to Nerima, so when the Wrecking Crew gets drafted for 'A Midsummer Night’s Dream,' hijinks ensue.
1. From the Ashes of Tragedy

Title: All is Mended

Summary: The Furinkan High School drama club decides to emerge from its Ranma-proof bunker and stage another production. Of course, strange supernatural forces seem almost magnetically drawn to Nerima, so when the Wrecking Crew gets drafted for _A Midsummer Night's Dream_, shenanigans can't help but ensue.

Pairings: Ranma/Akane (always), Shampoo/Mousse, Ryoga/Ukyo, and maybe Nabiki/Kuno, if I feel like it. Perhaps an Evil Surprise Pairing later on.

Disclaimer: Being neither Rumiko Takahashi nor the Bard of Stratford-upon-Avon, I do not own Ranma ½ or _A Midsummer Night's Dream_. Gosh, that must make this a fanfiction, huh? No profit is being made; no rabid attack lawyers are required.

Author's Note: This isn't the first time I've had the idea to "Midsummer" a fandom, but this is the one that's actually going to get written. Besides, don't the kids from Nerima work painfully well with _Midsummer_? Fits better'n _Romeo & Juliet_, if you ask me.

Acknowledgements: Many thanks to Lady Belegwen Lightningblade and Josey, my pre-readers. Any errors are mine, not theirs.

Rating: Currently K+. Rating will probably increase.

o o o

Chapter One: From the Ashes of Tragedy

Kamen Higo, president of the drama club, sank heavily onto the hard wooden chair and put his face in his hands, heedless of the way his fingers smudged the white stage makeup. "It's hopeless." His slightly-muffled proclamation echoed dully through the empty school library; distantly, he heard the old woman who worked as the librarian hiss at him to be quiet. As she shuffled away into her office, he tipped back in his chair, eyes closed, and contemplated the drama club meeting from which he had just emerged.

The meeting had consisted of the entire complement of the drama club—three people, including himself. That was all that remained of the once-proud Furinkan High School Drama Club. It had been thus ever since the event that Kamen privately referred to as the "_Romeo and Juliet_ Fiasco." Oh, yes, Furinkan had won the contest, and the cast had gotten to meet China Li. It had been an unmitigated disaster for the drama club, though; between the chaos, the unscheduled, un-choreographed fights in the middle of the balcony and tomb scenes, and the interference from cast members' parents, most of the regular members of the club had been scared off and never returned, and their horror stories kept prospective new members away. Kamen himself still had nightmares where William Shakespeare himself would rise from the grave to haunt him for mutilating his classic tragedy beyond recognition. It was only his love for the art that kept him coming back to the club, trying to keep it alive. After so many months without a single new member, despite waves of posters and several recruitment drives, however, it was beginning to seem impossible.

He sighed theatrically. "So ends my love affair with the stage." A single tear trickled down his cheek to further ravage the white face-paint, and he opened his eyes. "We're going to have to—what's that?" The afternoon sun, coming in from the high windows of the library, glinted golden off the spine of a book sitting on the top shelf of the bookcase across from him. Curiosity overcame despair for a moment, and he rose to investigate. The young man had to stretch slightly, just barely able to reach the heavy volume hidden away on the high shelf. Surprise conquered curiosity as he examined his prize. It was a musty leather-bound tome with gold edging on the pages and gold-embossed lettering on the spine and front cover. He brushed the dust away from the title on the front of the book, peering at the Roman letters. "_A Midsummer Night's Dream_," he read aloud.

A smile broke across the young actor's face. Of course! Hadn't he read that whenever a theater troupe in the West ran into difficulties, they would stage a production of this very same play? It had humor, romance, magic, and like most of Shakespeare's best comedies, a bit of mistaken identity and cross-dressing. Not, he thought ruefully, that the real lives of the students of Furinkan High didn't include enough of those things already. "But, this could be our chance!" he cried, clutching the tome to his chest. "The Furinkan drama club will rise from the ashes of _Romeo and Juliet_, and be reborn!" He rushed over to the photocopy machine, and began the task of printing out several copies of the script. Half an hour later, armed with a sense of renewed vitality and an impressive stack of copy paper, he headed for the library doors, determined to seek out the one person he knew could aid him in his endeavor.

The library was empty, with all the students either having gone home for the day or off on other parts of the grounds practicing sports or participating in club activities. The old librarian remained firmly ensconced in her office, thoroughly absorbed in a shopping catalogue. So no one was around to find it odd when the old leather-bound book that sat abandoned atop the photocopier trembled slightly, or when the machine printed off a page seemingly of its own volition, without anyone in attendance to push the button. There was no observer to wonder from whence came the wind that lifted the printed page out of the machine's catch-tray and carried it gently to the floor nearby. And there was certainly no onlooker to remark when the figure printed on the page, a short, cheerful-faced man with stubby horns sprouting from his forehead and a loincloth barely covering shaggy-haired legs that ended in neatly cloven hooves, reached up out of the sheet of paper, groped for a moment at the thin carpet lining the library floor, and pulled himself out into three dimensions.

The figure twisted his head first one way, and then the other, trying to stretch out the stiff muscles in his neck. "Dionysus's left _nut_, it's good to be out of that book!" This exclamation was immediately followed by a brief but violent fit of coughing. "It's called 'dusting,' folks," he groused to himself, "try it once in a while." He wiped his mouth, scratched himself, and wandered away from the photocopier to explore the room. "Those far-eastern Amazons can't take a joke nearly as well as Hippolyta's girls," he muttered, as he searched for something that would tell him where and when he was. "It's not like I wasn't gonna give 'em back."

The grumblings continued as the little man surveyed his surroundings, stretching himself to his full height to peer over the circulation counter, examining the display of periodicals, and sifting through the card catalog. The work of a few minutes revealed to him that he now resided in Japan, in the late twentieth century, in an academic institution for adolescents. He glanced back at the book, still sitting innocently on top of the machine, and grinned. "So, a bunch of teenagers are going to put on Will's play?" He chuckled. "That should be a merry time indeed!"

o o o

A few paces outside the gates of Furinkan High, Nabiki Tendo stood talking with a pair of her classmates, two of her most trusted assistants. They were briefing her on the outcome of the fight between Ranma and Mousse this afternoon at lunch, and the take she'd made from the betting pool. That idiot Kuno had managed to get himself caught up in the duel, and she'd had to drag him off to the nurse's station before the fight had ended.

The profits from the lunchtime bout were less than wholly satisfactory; only a few people had bet on Mousse, and of course _nobody_ bet on Kuno anymore—not against Ranma. She didn't have much time to ponder solutions to the situation, however, as a set of rapidly approaching footsteps heralded company. Nabiki turned toward the gates of the school to see a student dressed in traditional theater garb, complete with topknot and slightly-smeared white makeup, coming toward her group. She snapped her fingers, catching her assistant's attention. "Name?" she asked in an undertone.

"Kamen Higo, president of the drama club," came the girl's whispered reply. Nabiki nodded her approval, and shifted her grip on her book bag as she awaited the young man's arrival.

The theater boy slowed to a stop a few feet away, and bowed respectfully before approaching the girls. "Excuse me, Nabiki Tendo?" he asked, "I was wondering if I might speak with you for a moment."

She regarded him coolly. "Concerning?"

He glanced down at the thick sheaf of papers clutched to his chest, and then back at the girl before him. "Well, I suppose you could consider it something of a business proposition. You see, the drama club—"

Nabiki's expression brightened slightly at the phrase "business proposition." She stepped forward a pace, separating herself from the other girls, and nodded. "Why don't we find someplace more comfortable to discuss this? I've always found that business dealings go much more smoothly when conducted over ice cream." She smiled, and before Kamen Higo quite realized what was happening, he found himself standing at the counter of a nearby ice cream parlor, with his scripts tucked under one arm as he reached for his wallet with the other hand.

Once they were settled into a booth, Nabiki with her sundae and the theater boy with his milkshake, the brown-haired girl nodded at the packet of papers that Higo had been clutching since the schoolyard. "So what've you got there?" she asked.

He held the pages proudly aloft. "I have in my hands the renewed hope of the Furinkan High School drama club!" he announced.

A single eyebrow, arched in query, was the only change in Nabiki's otherwise blank expression. Higo shifted uneasily in his seat, and put his arms down. "Erm, perhaps I should begin at the beginning," he offered.

"Perhaps," Nabiki agreed, slipping another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.

She only half-listened as the costumed boy spun his tale of woe; it was no secret that the drama club's fortunes had taken a drastic plunge after the production of _Romeo and Juliet_; she'd witnessed firsthand as new hopefuls were frightened away by the horror stories told them by former members. Nabiki knew where this was going. She was nothing if not clever, and the way the boy across from her was clutching that stack of paper, there was only one thing it could be: a script. Of course, whether it was any good or not remained to be seen, and that would largely determine her approach to the situation. She glanced up at the young man's face; he seemed to be zeroing in on his point, so she tuned back in to hear what he was saying.

"…and when I saw the title, I knew that I had found the answer to our club's troubles! _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ is one of Shakespeare's most beloved, most magical works, and will surely be the thing that will save the drama club! Of course, there will be some details with which we will need some help…"

Though she gave no outward sign of it, Nabiki's attention perked up at the mention of the play's title. She did well enough in World Literature class to know that the theater boy was right about _Midsummer_'s popularity; a decent production of it, performed by an even halfway-talented troupe of actors, would bring in a fair chunk of cash. She leaned forward slightly in her seat. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

The young man nodded, to give himself a moment to string together his words. He'd thought over his requests on the way to find the Tendo girl, but she seemed to have a way of unbalancing a person. Just as she began to look impatient, he spoke again. "Well, there should be enough in the drama club treasury to cover props and costumes and such, so financially we should be all right. Mostly what we need is a way to drum up student interest in auditioning, and—" he cut himself off, fumbling for a way to express himself without offending the girl. "Well, in our last play, there was a lot of… your sister was quite talented in her role as Juliet, but with all of the, ah, unexpected—"

"You want me to keep the craziness that surrounds Ranma and Akane under control," Nabiki guessed calmly. It was a tall order, but she already had a few ideas.

Again Higo nodded. "Yes, that's it exactly. Do you think you can help us, Miss Tendo?"

"Of course," she replied neutrally, "but you have to understand, my services don't come cheaply. And for what you're asking, it will require a greater than usual investment of my time and effort—and therefore a greater investment of your finances."

"I understand, Miss Tendo, anything—" but he was cut off.

"Furthermore, I will personally retain the final say over casting and other creative and logistical decisions regarding this play. In fact, I'm going to become your producer."

"But, Miss Tendo!" Higo protested. "What interest do you have in those details of the play?"

Nabiki succumbed to the urge to roll her eyes. "Higo," she explained patiently, "if you want me to keep the chaos caused by Ranma's merry band of lunatics under wraps, then I'm going to have to get personally involved." She smiled thinly. "It's really the only way to ensure that this production doesn't turn into _Romeo and Juliet_ all over again."

She watched as Higo tugged at his ruffled collar, swallowing hard. "Well, all right, then. I suppose you know what's best."

"Great. Let me have a copy of the script." She held out her hand, and he scrambled to separate a single copy of the document from the pile he carried. "I'll look it over, and work out the terms of our arrangement tonight. I'll have the contract messengered over to you at the start of school tomorrow."

Kamen Higo nervously shook the hand she offered him, sealing the deal. "A pleasure doing business with you," he heard her say as she slid the script into her book bag. He watched her get up from the booth and walk out the door, and wondered dimly what he'd just gotten himself into.

As she turned down the street that led back to the dojo, Nabiki Tendo allowed herself a small smile. The percentage she would take on a successful and appropriately-managed stage production would far exceed the paltry sum she'd been making on the betting pools from Ranma's fights, or even the girly pictures she sold to Kuno. And while the average high school drama production wasn't exactly a money-making enterprise, some of the ideas she had for keeping the various fiancées and rivals under control had the potential to bring in much more satisfying returns. _And, in an ironic twist, I'll even come off looking altruistic,_ she thought, amused. She shifted her book bag on her shoulder, as if feeling the weight of the yen that the script represented. _I've got my work cut out for me tonight, though. This is going to be a challenge…_


	2. Grinding Slowly into Motion

Author's Notes: Disclaimers and suchlike will only be found in the first chapter; since this is all the same story, those disclaimers continue to apply.

Again, I extend my thanks to my pre-readers, Lady Belegwen Lightningblade and Josey.

For anyone who might be concerned that the story seems too Nabiki-centric, rest assured that this _is_ an ensemble piece. Nabiki is just ending up as the focus of the first few chapters because she's pulling everything together. Nabiki is awesome, but the story's not just about her.

In case I didn't say it before (which, actually, I think I didn't), please Read & Review! I like to know what people think. Many thanks to my one reviewer so far, Concetta; the fact that you're the only one just makes you all the more special!

o o o

Chapter Two: Grinding Slowly into Motion

Nabiki leaned back against the arm of the couch; the television nearby droned quietly as it played the evening news, but she only occasionally glanced at the stock ticker crawling across the bottom of the screen. The majority of her attention was focused on the script in her lap, and the clipboard of names braced against her leg. She'd never read the play before tonight, and a few times she'd had to stop herself from laughing aloud as she looked at some of the roles, and realized that one or another of the Nerima locals fit the bill perfectly.

She reviewed her list one more time, and a small smile of satisfaction tugged at her lips as she saw that each of the major roles had a name written next to them in her neat, efficient handwriting. Tomorrow afternoon she would meet with Higo and organize the cattle call auditions to fill the minor roles, but now she was almost ready to begin her recruitment drive in earnest. There was only one minor detail that needed her attention first, to ensure that things would proceed as smoothly as possible.

Stretching a little, she set the clipboard in her lap, upside-down on top of the script. From under the cushion of the couch she pulled a folded booklet, and tucked it under the clipboard, out of view. "I wonder if Kasumi has started the laundry already," she mused out loud. "I wanted to give her this bra I'm wearing to throw in with the wash, so it would be clean for tomorrow."

Right on cue, Happosai popped up from behind the sofa. "Why don't you let me bring it to her, Nabiki my dear? I can see that you're very busy."

The middle Tendo daughter put on her most innocent smile. "Oh, that's all right, grandfather; I'll be getting up in a few minutes anyway. By the way, have you seen Ranma and Akane around?"

The tiny old man frowned. "I think they're still out in the dojo. That ungrateful boy refused to turn female so I could show him one of my oldest techniques!"

"That's a shame," Nabiki managed to sound convincingly sympathetic. She glanced out at the porch, where her father and Genma were engrossed in their seemingly-interminable game of shogi. "You know," she said, a hint of sadness creeping into her expression, "I think Dad and Mr. Saotome really miss training with you. I overheard them the other day, talking about the long training journeys they used to take with you, and how much they learned from you."

"…Really? My students enjoyed their training so much?" Happosai's huge eyes glistened with unshed tears. Almost immediately, though, his visage shifted into a scowl. "You would never know it, listening to those two louts talk!"

"I think they just feel a bit left out," Nabiki lied smoothly. "Ever since you settled on Ranma as the heir to the Anything Goes School, you've been spending so much time and energy training him, that I think they feel like they're not important anymore."

The old man's face softened again. "Well, I suppose that I have been focusing a lot on young Ranma. There's still so much I have to teach him, if he's going to carry on the tradition of Anything Goes martial arts!"

Nabiki nodded. "I know, grandfather. But Dad and Mr. Saotome are your students too."

Happosai's expression turned solemn, and he took a contemplative pull from his pipe. "You're right, Nabiki. I shouldn't neglect Soun and Genma. I've allowed them to get frightfully out of practice lately."

"Oh!" Nabiki suddenly seemed to remember something. "I ran across a travel guide the other day for a training ground that I thought might interest you." She pulled out the brochure from its hiding place under her play notes, and handed it to the little man. The front cover read, "Live Girls Girls Girls! Open Late!" and displayed several photos of nude young women against a background image of the Shanghai skyline.

The old lecher snatched the pamphlet out of Nabiki's hand. "Hot-cha!" he exclaimed. As he flipped through the inner pages, his eyes bugged out even further. Then, in the blink of an eye, he'd stashed the brochure somewhere, and smiled warmly at her. "Thank you, Nabiki dear; you're a good girl." He rubbed his hands together. "Tell Kasumi that the three of us will be gone for at least a month. I've got my work cut out for me if I'm going to whip those boys back into shape." He chuckled, and the sound sent an unpleasant shudder up Nabiki's spine. "Soun and Genma won't know what hit 'em!"

"I'll bet they won't," she said to herself as she watched the old man bound off to corner the two fathers on the porch. She felt a faint, momentary twinge of guilt for setting them up like that, but then shook her head. _If it wasn't for them, none of us would have to deal with that old pervert in the first place,_ she reminded herself firmly, and the unwanted pang of emotion evaporated as quickly as it had come. In fact, she smirked a little as she heard the startled yelps of the two middle-aged men in response to Happosai's sudden announcement:

"Pack your bags, boys—we're going on a training trip!"

Nabiki picked up her clipboard again, and began to review her notes. _This production will be so much easier to handle with those two meddlers and the sex-offender out of the country_, she thought with satisfaction. _Now I just have to wait for my first vict—ah, actors, to come inside._

She wasn't waiting long. About five minutes after the fathers had fled the building with their perverted master in hot pursuit, the youngest Tendo girl and her reluctant fiancé came wandering in. Akane wore her training gi, a sweatband, and an irritated scowl, and Ranma trailed behind her, rubbing at a painful-looking lump on his head.

"If ya didn't want my help, ya shoulda just said so!" Ranma groused sulkily.

Akane glared at him. "Saying that I kick like a three-legged rhinoceros is _not_ 'helping,' you jerk!"

"It is when you _do _kick like a three—"

_This conversation is moving in a wholly unproductive direction,_ Nabiki observed. _Time to divert it._ "Akane, Ranma? A moment of your time, if I may."

"What do you want, Nabiki?" her sister snapped. "Kasumi said I only have a few minutes to wash up before dinner."

The older girl tactfully ignored the display of temper. "This won't take long, and besides, it'll just be the four of us eating tonight anyway."

This revelation distracted Ranma from the pain in his head. "Why? Where's Pop and Mr. Tendo?"

Nabiki smiled. "They had somewhere else to be. But that's somewhat beside the point. Are the two of you terribly busy after school for the next few weeks?"

Akane's expression took on a suspicious cast. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because I've recently been put in charge of the drama club's latest offering, and I was hoping that you and Ranma would be interested in roles."

Akane's eyes widened slightly, unconsciously revealing to her sister that she was intrigued, though she remained wary. "A play? What is it this time?"

"Shakespeare again," Nabiki answered, and noticed that the younger girl seemed to lower her guard a little at this response, "a comedy this time around, though. _A Midsummer Night's Dream._ Are you familiar with it?"

She shook her head. "Not really. What kind of role did you have in mind for me?"

Nabiki glanced down at her clipboard for a moment. "I have you down as Hermia, a pretty young woman whose father is trying to force her into an unwanted engagement."

Akane shot a glare at Ranma. "I think I know what that feels like."

The pigtailed boy scowled back. "Well it's not like I wanna—"

Nabiki cut him off again. "So you'll do it, Akane? You'll take the role?"

The younger girl broke off her angry stare at Ranma, who took the opportunity to stick out his tongue at her. She nodded. "Sure, Nabiki, I'll do it."

"Great." Nabiki reached into the book bag on the floor beside the couch, and withdrew a document and a pen. "Sign right there, at the bottom. And here's your copy of the script," she pulled a neatly-stapled packet of paper out of the bundle on her lap; it had 'Hermia' written across the top, and inside, all of the character's lines were illuminated in yellow highlighter. "You can look it over while you're in the bath; you'd better hurry, or Kasumi will have to wait dinner for you."

"O-okay," Akane said, a little startled at the sudden rush. Quickly she scribbled her name at the bottom of the contract and snatched the script from her sister's hand before hurrying upstairs. Ranma started to follow, heading for the guest room he shared with his father.

"Hold it, Saotome," Nabiki said, stopping him in his tracks. "I've got a part for you, too."

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "I dunno, Nabiki… I'm not really that into plays."

The brown-haired girl arched an eyebrow. "You were in _Romeo and Juliet_," she retorted reasonably.

"Well, yeah, but I thought there was a trip to China in it for me then," he explained. His eyes widened suddenly. "Would I get to go to China this time?"

"No, Ranma," Nabiki fought the urge to roll her eyes, "no one's going to China. But I figure that you kind of owe it to the drama club, after the mess you made of their last play."

"What're you talking about?" he protested, puffing out his chest slightly. "We won the contest because of me!"

Nabiki shook her head. "Only because China Li was amused by the circus that you turned the play into! Since then, the drama club hasn't been able to get anybody to try out for their plays. They asked me for help as a last-ditch effort to save the club!"

Ranma blinked. "I kinda wondered why you were suddenly involved with the drama club." He hopped up to perch on the arm of the couch, so that he was facing Nabiki. "But, if it was such a disaster the last time I was involved, why do you want me in the play this time?"

A shark-like smile broke across the middle Tendo girl's face. "It's simple," she explained, "I know that, if anyone even tangentially involved with you and Akane tries to put together a major project like this play, inevitably the two of you and any number of your associated lunatics will end up in the middle of it. That leaves me with two choices. I can either let the chaos happen naturally, and watch all my plans blow up spectacularly in my face—or I can do the intelligent thing, and _harness_ that chaos, control it, and like an energy turbine on a waterfall, turn it into something constructive."

The pigtailed martial artist folded his arms across his chest and eyed her skeptically. "How the heck do you plan on _controlling_ the sort of stuff that goes on around here?"

The smile on Nabiki's face widened slightly. Without a word, she pulled another copy of the contract out of her book bag, and handed it to Ranma. At her nod, he took it and began to skim it. "…agrees to make no attempts to duel, kill, drug, or otherwise incapacitate other members of the cast or crew..." he muttered half-aloud as he skipped around, reading bits and pieces of the contract. "…to make no attempts to date, marry, seduce, or otherwise interfere with other members of the cast or crew... forbidden from bringing water or any other fluids onto the premises of rehearsal or performance locations…" He raised his eyes from the document in his hands and looked at Nabiki, shock written across his features in broad strokes. "You're gonna have all of 'em be in the play, aren't you? The fiancées, the rivals…"

"Pretty much," Nabiki grinned. "And with these notarized, legally-binding contracts—and maybe another trick or two here and there—I should be able to keep a reasonably solid leash on the chaos. And we'll have a good month of rehearsals to work out the kinks."

Ranma nodded slowly, impressed—and a little intimidated. He seemed to mull over the situation for a few moments; Nabiki could almost _see_ the gears in his head grinding into motion. Suddenly he snapped his fingers. "But what about our dads?" he asked. "Remember last time? Pop and Mr. Tendo—"

"—Are, as we speak, on their way to Shanghai with Happosai, on a 'training trip' of dubious virtue that promises to keep them otherwise occupied for at least a month," she finished for him, triumphantly.

He blinked again. "You're good."

She shrugged. "It's what I do. So, what do you say? Are you in?"

His eyes narrowed as he gave her a measuring look. Finally, he nodded. "I think I'm better off working _with_ you than _against_ you."

Nabiki handed him her pen. "At last, he learns."

Ranma paged briefly through the contract in his hands again, before signing it. "You know, if everything works out the way you have planned, it's a pretty good deal for me. For at least a couple hours every day for a whole month, I won't have to worry about being transformed, attacked, drugged, or married!"

The older girl took the contract from his hands, examining his rather sloppy signature before slipping the document into her book bag. "You begin to appreciate the benefits of working with me." She pulled another stapled packet of papers from her lap and handed it to the pigtailed boy. "Welcome to the cast, Lysander."

o o o

The next afternoon was bright and sunny, and Nabiki Tendo was in a good mood as she walked through the school gates and down the street. That Higo boy had been more than willing to agree to the terms of the contract she presented to him that morning. Of course, she was pretty sure he would have agreed to whatever she'd asked, if it meant saving his precious drama club. He'd been a bit confused by some of the details, though, and she'd spent more time than she'd have preferred explaining to him just _why_ this production had to be a joint effort between the Furinkan Drama Club and a community theater group that she'd just founded for the purpose. He couldn't seem to grasp the reason she felt the need to bring in "outside talent," rather than relying on the school's own pool of actors. Fortunately, it took only the mention of the phrase "_Romeo and Juliet_" to make the costumed boy drop to his knees and agree to whatever she asked, if only she would "just keep it from happening again!"

She smirked a little, in amused condescension. _Some people make it so very easy; say the right word at the right moment, and they'll let you lead them wherever you please, even right into the abattoir. Not that I'd ever do such a thing, of course,_ she added in a tone of affected innocence that rang false even to her own mind's ear. _And then, there are some who present more of a challenge._ This thought brought her focus back to her destination; she had not taken the turn that would lead her back to the dojo. Instead, she was headed for the restaurant district.

The bell hanging above the entrance to the Nekohanten jingled cheerfully as the door opened. Mousse glanced up from the table he was clearing one-handed, his other arm already weighed down with stacked plates and bowls, to see the second Tendo sister standing in the doorway. Shampoo had spotted her as well, and marched across the dining room to confront the other girl, her beautiful face already set in a suspicious frown.

"What Mercenary Girl want?" the Amazon demanded, hands on her hips.

The brown-haired Tendo favored her with a bland look. "Well, at the moment, 'Mercenary Girl want' a table, a glass of water, and a menu."

Shampoo's expression underwent a sudden and complete transformation, from threatening glare to welcoming smile. No matter how many times Mousse saw it happen, he still marveled at how quickly his beloved's mood could change. "You is customer, then?" he heard her ask the other girl brightly. "Come, follow Shampoo! We find you too too nice table. Mousse!" she snapped.

Instantly he was at her side, the pile of dishes forgotten on an unused table. "Yes, Shampoo?" He was aware of how pitifully eager he sounded, but even her harshness was preferable to her silence, and she'd been ignoring him since the lunch rush had tapered off.

"Wipe down table for customer," she ordered, and turned away as he leapt to comply. "Shampoo be back in moment with water and menu," she told the Tendo girl with a smile, and departed into the kitchen.

Curiosity, and the fact that the girl actually seemed to notice and acknowledge his presence, impelled Mousse to make conversation as he wiped the table clean. "I confess I'm a bit surprised to see you here, Nabiki Tendo. I wouldn't have thought you'd be comfortable at the Nekohanten, with your sister's rival here."

The short-haired girl shrugged off the concern. "I actually came down here for a little peace and quiet. You'd be surprised how crazy things can get back home. With Ryoga dropping in out of nowhere to challenge Ranma, or Happosai trying to raid my sister's underwear drawer, or one of the Kunos showing up to play stalker, a girl can hardly get any work done." She sighed in apparent frustration, glancing down at the book bag she'd set down on the chair in front of her. "And I really need to finish up this project by tomorrow. I'm in charge of this play at school, and I still haven't found anyone who can handle the role of the Amazon queen. I was thinking maybe Akane could—"

A shriek of outrage, followed by a splash, interrupted her. "What? Violent Kitchen Destroyer no can be Amazon queen! Impossible! Shampoo not allow it!" Unfortunately for Mousse, the lavender-haired girl had accompanied her protest with an emphatic gesture, neglecting to remember the glass of water she was carrying for Nabiki. He quacked in halfhearted protest, but she didn't seem to notice; all her attention was focused on the other girl.

Nabiki seemed unfazed by the outburst, and simply lifted her hands in a gesture of helplessness. "But what can I do? Where else can I find someone who would be willing to play the part?"

Again, Shampoo's entire demeanor underwent a dramatic change, and she flashed a dazzling smile. "Shampoo will do it!"

Raising an eyebrow, Nabiki paused a moment, looking at the other girl thoughtfully as she considered this suggestion. "Well, maybe that could work…"

"Of course it work!" Shampoo declared, still beaming. "Who better play Amazon than Amazon?"

"Hm," Nabiki cocked her head to one side. After a moment, she nodded. "All right, you've convinced me. Here," she opened her bag and rummaged around for a moment, before pulling out two stapled packets of paper. She set one down on the newly-cleaned table and tapped the bottom of the page with her finger. "Sign this, and you're in the play."

With a triumphant smirk, the Chinese girl took a pen from her apron pocket and signed the contract. "There," she said, "now what Shampoo have to do?"

Nabiki handed her the other packet of paper; it had the words "Hippolyta/Titania" written across the top of the first page. "Here's your script. Your lines are highlighted in pink; you'll need to memorize them, but you have a couple of weeks. I'll give you the rehearsal schedule once I've organized the rest of the actors."

Shampoo nodded, not entirely understanding, but still feeling victorious. At last, Mousse's persistent quacking penetrated her awareness, and her eyes snapped down to glare at him. "Stupid Mousse," she scolded as she bent down to scoop up the white duck tangled in the Amazon boy's oddly clanking robes, "it not sanitary you be duck in restaurant! Come," she told him, as if he had a choice in the matter at this point, "you change back and clean up mess on floor."

Nabiki watched this exchange silently, and as Shampoo retreated once again into the kitchen, she picked up the menu left behind by the Chinese girl and began to review the ramen selections. A few moments later, a slightly damp Mousse emerged again, this time bearing a mop and bucket. He stopped in the doorway to adjust his thick glasses on his face, and scanned the room briefly to locate her. He came up beside her table, grumbling unintelligibly under his breath, and began to wipe up the spill.

Nabiki glanced past the long-haired boy, to the kitchen door; Shampoo had not followed him back into the dining area. She returned her eyes to the menu, and pitched her voice low to prevent it from carrying, "I bet you'd like the chance to act opposite Shampoo in the play, as her husband."

Abandoning his mop, Mousse lunged across the table and clutched Nabiki's hands. "You can't possibly imagine how much I would like that, Nabiki Tendo!"

With some difficulty, Nabiki managed to pry her hands loose from his grasp. "I think I have a vague idea," she said dryly. "And that's why I'm going to give you that opportunity."

"Y-you are? Really?" Behind their thick lenses, his eyes were brimming with unshed tears of hope and joy. At her mute nod of affirmation, his happiness redoubled. "Oh, thank you, Nabiki Tendo! You are truly a wonderful, kind, generous, benevolent—" He froze in mid-celebratory-dance, and slowly turned to look at the brown-haired girl. "Wait. Why are you doing this?"

"Because you're going to pay for my meal," she replied reasonably.

"Oh," he said, deflating slightly. "Of course I am."

She nodded in satisfaction, pleased that this detail had been settled, and continued. "And because I need someone to make sure that Shampoo learns all of her lines properly. Her grasp of Japanese is kind of…" _Abysmal,_ she thought. "…Shaky," she said.

Mousse considered this statement, and reluctantly nodded his agreement. "I see your point. I'll do what I can."

"Glad to hear it," Nabiki smiled. "If you'll just sign this," she pulled out another copy of the contract and slid it in front of him, "then I can give you your script."

"Right." Mousse reached into the sleeve of his robe and pulled out… a mace. He set it down on the table with an irritated look and tried again, coming out with a ducky-shaped training potty. A third effort yielded a grappling hook, and a fourth try met with a fire extinguisher. Finally he managed to figure out where he'd hidden his pen, and signed the document. Trying to conceal an amused smile, Nabiki handed him a stapled sheaf of paper labeled "Theseus/Oberon."

The hidden-weapons master slipped the script into his sleeve, and then proceeded to replace all of the objects he'd accumulated in his search for a writing implement. He wiped the mop across the floor once or twice more—most of the water had dried while the two teens had conducted their negotiations—and was about to return to the kitchen, when Nabiki's voice stopped him.

"Oh, tell your girlfriend I'll be having the deluxe special," she said casually.

Mousse wanted to growl at the girl for ordering such an expensive dish, but hearing her refer to Shampoo as his girlfriend brought a grin to his face. "Sure, spend _all_ of my money, why don't you?" he managed in at least a vaguely-annoyed tone.

This only made Nabiki's smile widen. "And make sure you leave her a nice tip. I don't want her thinking I'm cheap."


	3. Another One of Those Plans

Author's Note: Once again, thanks to my prereaders, Lady Belegwen Lightningblade and Josey. Also, an advance apology to my readers, if Principal Kuno's dialogue hurts you to read half as much as it hurt me to write. Fortunately I don't plan on having him appear too frequently in this story. Further note: reviews make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside!

o o o

Chapter Three: Another One of Those Plans

Dinner that evening was fairly quiet, with just the four of them in the house—_the four of us girls_, Ranma thought irritably as he lay on the floor of the living room, listening for the whistle of the kettle in the other room as he tried to focus on the script in front of him. Akane had suggested that they start looking over their roles in the play, and he hadn't been able to come up with any reasons against the idea. He was kind of curious about what he'd gotten himself into, anyway.

He twisted his currently-red pigtail around one finger as he skimmed over the first few paragraphs of the opening scene, trying to get a general sense of what was going on before Lysander's first lines. He came across his character's name in one of the other characters' speeches, and backed up a little for a closer look. _"Stand forth, Lysander. And, my gracious duke, this hath bewitched the bosom of my child. Thou, thou, Lysander, thou has given her rhymes and interchanged love tokens with my child…" Oh boy. How is it I always get accused of this kinda stuff?_ He sighed.

Apparently, Akane had gotten about that far as well, because he heard her slam down her script, crinkling the pages. "Nabiki!" she yelled, springing up from her seat on the couch and marching up the stairs to her sister's room. Finding it unlocked, the youngest Tendo slammed open the door and glared at the target of her ire, who was currently sprawled out on the bed with her calculus book open in front of her.

The older girl looked up at her mildly. "Can I help you with something, Akane?"

She stood in the doorway, fuming, for a moment before she found her voice again. "You paired me off with Ranma in the play," she accused.

Nabiki blinked. Then she leaned over the side of the bed and reached down to grab a clipboard sitting on the floor. She consulted it, and nodded. "Yeah; you're Hermia, and he's Lysander. So?"

Her sister's eyes narrowed dangerously. "This isn't another one of those 'set Akane and Ranma up together' schemes, is it, Nabiki?"

The brown-haired girl shot her a condescending look. "No, Akane, it's one of those 'make a lot of money for Nabiki' schemes. Not _everything_ that happens around here revolves around you two, you know."

Akane took a step back in surprise. "You mean this isn't a setup?"

Nabiki rolled her eyes. "Getting a little paranoid, aren't you, Sis? After all, Daddy and Mr. Saotome are out of the country for the rest of the month."

The younger girl glanced down at the floor. "Yeah, I suppose so…"

"And you should know by now that I couldn't care less what you and Ranma get up to in your spare time—as long as you learn your lines," Nabiki pressed.

Akane shuffled her feet a little. "I guess you're right. But, I'm still not sure how comfortable I feel in a role where I have to pretend to be in love with Ranma…"

"You did it in _Romeo and Juliet_," she countered.

The dark-haired girl blushed, thinking of the way she felt when she was told to kiss Ranma. As the memory continued, she scowled. "And you remember how _that_ turned out, don't you?" she snapped.

Nabiki gave a nonchalant shrug. "The entire goal for this play is to have it _not_ turn out like that one, Akane. That's kind of why they put me in charge."

"Still," Akane persevered, "isn't there another role I could have?"

The older girl shook her head. "Sorry, Sis; all the major parts have already been cast." _Some of the actors just don't know it yet_, she added silently.

"Well… I guess if there's really nothing else you can do…" her younger sister trailed off.

Nabiki sat up on the bed and gave her sister a smile intended to engender trust. "You worry too much, Akane," she told her encouragingly. "It's a play; have fun with it. Now go study your lines!" She made a shooing motion with her hands. "And shut the door behind you."

Decidedly not reassured, Akane had little choice but to comply anyway. As she made her way down the stairs, she heard the kettle whistling merrily for attention in the kitchen, and wondered why Ranma hadn't gone to fetch it and change back. She came around the corner and entered the living room to find the redhead sitting on the floor and intently reading the script in his hands, anxiety painted clearly across his still-female features.

_First things first,_ she thought, _the whistle on that kettle is getting annoying._ Quickly she slipped into the kitchen and turned off the stove, taking the kettle back out to the living room with her. Ranma looked up at her as she approached, and she caught a spark of fear in his eyes. "Ranma, what's the matter? Why didn't you get the kettle?" she asked, gesturing with the vessel of steaming water.

"I, ah…" he began intelligently, glancing back down at the pages in his hands. When he brought his eyes back up to meet hers, the fear had faded a little, but not completely disappeared. "I was readin' ahead a little in the script. How far have you gotten?"

The dark-haired girl shook her head. "Not very. Why?"

Ranma fidgeted a bit with the papers, and swallowed nervously. "Well, about halfway in, Lysander gets drugged with a love potion, and—" he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, "—he kinda falls in love with Helena, and calls Hermia all kinds of names and stuff." The redhead closed his eyes, and braced himself.

Curious, Akane walked past Ranma and picked up her own copy of the script, flipping through to the third act. As she skimmed through it, she reddened as she saw some of Lysander's lines, and imagined Ranma saying them to her. _"Get you gone, you dwarf! You minimus, of hind'ring knotgrass made! You bead, you acorn!"_

She nodded. "I see what you mean. It _is_ pretty bad."

Ranma hesitated a moment, before lifting his head and opening his eyes. "You… you're not gonna hit me?"

Akane looked at him, confused. "Why would I hit you?"

Her currently-female fiancé shrugged. "'Cause that's usually what happens when I call you names."

The dark-haired girl let out an exasperated sigh. "It isn't _you_ that's doing the name-calling, Ranma; it's your character. Just like how, in the first act, it isn't really you saying you love me—it's Lysander and Hermia." The boy-turned-girl didn't seem any more at ease, so she searched for another example. "It's just like it was in _Romeo and Juliet_, with the kiss. It wasn't really us."

"Y-yeah…" the redhead agreed, breaking eye contact and hoping the other girl didn't notice the blush rising in his cheeks. _Not really us… heh._ He shoved the thought aside before it could develop any further. "Hey, is that hot water?"

Akane rolled her eyes. "Yes. It's the same kettle you put on earlier, that you forgot about while you were worrying about me hitting you. Here," she poured the water over her fiancé, careful not to drip on the script in his hands.

"Ye-e-e-o-o-ow!" Ranma yelped, his voice dropping from soprano to baritone in mid-yowl, "Too hot! It's almost boiling!"

"Then you shouldn't have left it on so long, stupid," Akane informed him.

The newly-restored boy grumbled to himself as he wrung the water out of his pigtail. He lifted his gaze to his fiancée's face, his blue eyes reflecting uncertainty. "Are you really not gonna get mad at me for the stuff I hafta say to you in the play?"

She shifted her grip on the empty kettle, now holding it in front of her with both hands. _He's really that worried about it?_ she thought, bemused. "No, Ranma, I'm not going to get mad at you for saying your lines in the play."

He picked up the script again, looking away from her as he reached for it. "Promise?"

It didn't seem like he was going to let it go. "Okay, Ranma," she said, "I promise."

o o o

_It really is a lovely morning,_ Nabiki thought contentedly as she passed through the gates of Furinkan High. And it was: breakfast had been peaceful, with only the four of them in attendance; Ranma and Akane had even managed not to argue. It was a warm, sunny day, and Nabiki had checked off fully half the names on her cast list. With luck and a bit of cleverness, she expected to finish out the list within the next day or two. Higo would have finished up the auditions for the minor roles by then, and so rehearsals should be able to start by the weekend. In short, her plans were progressing in a thoroughly satisfactory manner.

A commotion in the direction of the school building interrupted her musings. She frowned slightly; her sister and Ranma hadn't gotten to school yet, so the trouble couldn't involve either of them. Curious, she quickened her pace slightly, and went to investigate.

_Truly, it is a horrible day,_ thought Tatewaki Kuno, as he sidestepped another swipe of the barber's shears. "Begone, vile principal! I will tolerate no more of your foolishness!"

His adversary, a heavyset middle-aged man in a criminally-loud Hawaiian shirt, merely grinned. "But Tacchi! If da Big Kahuna's own son be gettin' de buzz cut, den all de keiki be wantin' to get dem same cut!" He lunged again, a pair of shears in each hand, and the kendoist dodged with difficulty.

"Never again will Tatewaki Kuno endure the horrors you seek to inflict, villain!" Painful memories welled up within him, and with a growl, the younger Kuno took the offensive, slashing viciously at his nemesis. "Strike! Strike! Strike!"

The flurry of motion that followed was almost too rapid for the eye to track. Too late, Kuno realized the fatal error to which his anger had blinded him. He heard the words that had haunted his dreams for years: "Wooden Sword Shredding Strike!" In the blink of an eye, his bokken was so much useless sawdust in his hands, and he stood unarmed and defenseless before his foe.

"Now you be gettin' de haircut!" the principal crowed, reaching for the boy.

Kuno staggered back a pace, his eyes widening in familiar horror. "No…" he breathed.

A cold voice sliced through the air like a katana blade, freezing both combatants in place. "Principal Kuno!"

In numb surprise, the kendoist glanced in the direction of the voice, and stared in shock at the vision he encountered. _Nabiki Tendo…?_

The elder Kuno turned his attention toward her as well, looking confused. "What da wahine want?"

The brown-haired girl's eyes narrowed, and she took a single, menacing step forward. "Unhand my actor."

Her command was met with identical expressions of blank confusion. The principal recovered first. "What you sayin', dere?"

"Well, Principal," she began, her voice dripping thickly with scorn, "as you would know, if you paid the slightest bit of attention to anything important to the student body of this school, the drama club is putting together a new play. I'm in charge of it. As such, it's my job to make sure that nothing interferes with any part of the production, including its cast."

The older man frowned, releasing his grip on the boy's wrist in order to point at him, which caused the absurd palm tree on his head to wave slightly. "But Tacchi not no actor! Tacchi in da kendo club."

The corners of Nabiki Tendo's mouth twisted upward in an expression that was decidedly not a smile. "I think you'll find that you're quite mistaken in that regard, Principal Kuno. Tatewaki is indeed on the kendo team, but he has been a registered member of the drama club since its most recent previous production. Check your records."

The principal glanced at Tatewaki, and then back at the girl. "No problem, den. I no stop Tacchi from bein' in da play. I just goan to give him de haircut!" He lunged for the boy again.

Nabiki took another step forward, directly interposing herself between her classmate and the principal. "You will do nothing of the kind," she informed him in a voice that could cut diamonds. "Until the curtain goes down on the last performance of the play, I _own_ this boy, down to the very last hair on his head. And if I require his hair intact for the role he has to play in my production, then you _will not touch him_ until it is done."

Foolishly, the older man frowned, brandishing his shears at Tatewaki. "But I de Big Kahuna! Dis is a school play, an' I de principal of de school!"

The Tendo girl's eyes shone with a predatory gleam. "Again, Principal Kuno, you are mistaken. As you would know if you read any of the documents that cross your desk, this is not exclusively a high school production. The Furinkan drama club is working in conjunction with a local community theater group, as a fundraiser for the Nerima town council; we're raising money to contribute to municipal repairs throughout the city. You may recall that my father is a member of the town council." Her deadly-calm voice became even colder. "You may also recall that the school board operates within the council's oversight. It would be _ill-advised_ of you to displease them." She raised her chin, daring him to challenge her.

The principal paled under his beach-tan and backed away, clumsily attempting to hide the shears behind his back. "Uh, Big Kahuna just remember, got lots'a work to do in de office! You keiki come down an' see me if you be needin' anyt'ing, yeah?" He stumbled backward a few more paces before beating a hasty exit.

Nabiki let out an irritated sigh before turning to face her classmate, who was still frozen where he stood, staring in dumb shock at the scene he had just witnessed. For an instant, the Tendo girl thought she saw a flash of gratitude in his eyes—but it dissolved as the Blue Thunder's air of arrogant pride reasserted itself.

"How much will your intervention in this matter cost me, Nabiki Tendo?" he asked cynically.

She turned on one of her best smiles, and noted with satisfaction that it caused him to flinch a little. "Well, really, I don't think it would be right of me to charge you full price for this one," she confessed, "since everything I told him was completely true."

Kuno's mind floated helplessly for a moment, before it found its anchor in a relevant fact. "Nonsense! I have heard nothing about any such play!"

"I know that, Kuno-baby," Nabiki replied with exaggerated patience, "that's why I'm telling you about it now."

"But I have not agreed to participate in the performance," he protested, steadfastly ignoring the growing awareness that this was a battle he had already lost.

"Oh, but you will," she explained. "Or am I mistaken in my understanding that you have a great appreciation for the world's finest poets?"

"You are not mistaken," he agreed uneasily.

"Then how could you turn down the opportunity to perform in one of the greatest works penned by the Grand Master of his craft, William Shakespeare? Especially since the part I had in mind for you is a sought-after, much coveted role!" She closed the distance between them, laying a hand on his arm. "In fact, when I first read the play, I knew that only Tatewaki Kuno had the skill, the passion, the sheer _presence_ for the part! Truly, it is the role you were born to play!"

Hopelessly caught up in her words, Kuno raised his fist, still clenching the shredded remains of his bokken, into the air. Tears streamed down his face. "Yes! I will join your celebration of the dramatic arts, and do honor to the name of William Shakespeare!"

Nabiki smiled. "Perfect. Sign this." She thrust a clipboard at him, bearing a document.

"What is this, Nabiki Tendo?" he asked, somewhat befuddled at the sudden change in her demeanor.

"Oh, just your standard actors' contract. You know," she explained shortly, holding out a ballpoint pen.

He frowned at it for a moment, and then took the pen from her. "All right," he agreed, signing it.

"Thanks," she said, holding open her book bag to slip the contract back inside. She continued to fish around in the bag for a few moments, her fingers deliberately brushing past the stapled script labeled "Bottom" and continuing to rummage about. "Damn," she sighed at last, "I can't find your copy of the script. One of these days I need to get a real briefcase, so I can actually keep things organized." She looked up at him through her eyelashes, feigning embarrassment. "Do you think you can send someone by the dojo after school to pick it up?"

Kuno nodded. "Of course. I shall send my servant, Sasuke, to fetch it from you as soon as I return home this afternoon."

"That'll be fine," Nabiki confirmed. "Now, we should get to class; the bell is going to ring any second."

"Already?" Kuno's eyebrows shot up in dismay. Without another word to her, he spun around and ran down the hallway, shouting. "Akane Tendo, fair maiden! How you must have languished in the absence of my greeting this morning! But fear not, my love—I come now to welcome you, that you may proclaim your true feelings for me!"

Nabiki blinked. "Idiot," she muttered, and turned to head into her classroom.


	4. No Such Thing as a Free Lunch

Author's Note: Once again, much love to my pre-readers, Lady Belegwen Lightningblade and Josey. (I do apologize if the dedication gets repetitive after a while, but they've been incredibly supportive, so I feel they deserve it.) Also, thanks and welcome to my latest reviewers, MoonstoneCabbit, Saotome Kyuubi, and Capo. I hope you continue to enjoy. And remember: reviews fill me with happiness. Now, on with our story...

o o o

Chapter Four: No Such Thing as a Free Lunch

The sun shone warmly down on the Furinkan schoolyard, and Ukyo savored the faint breeze that drifted by as she set up her portable okonomiyaki grill, glad that her long hair was pulled back in its usual ponytail. The gentle play of cool air across her face and neck kept it from feeling _too_ warm out. She glanced up at the bright, cloudless sky. _I'll bet Ranchan is enjoying the weather,_ she thought. Clear days like this meant it was less likely that an unexpected downpour would catch him unawares, triggering his curse. On sunny days, he only had to contend with rivals, careless people in the upper stories of buildings, the occasional lawn sprinkler, and that old woman with the ladle.

She glanced across the lawn at her fiancé, her smile fading as she saw him and Akane Tendo under a tree, sitting far too close together for her comfort. Their attention was focused on some papers that each held in their laps, and every now and then one would quietly comment to the other, pointing at something on the page. Ukyo wondered what was so interesting. _A school project, maybe?_ she guessed, trying to recall if any of their teachers had assigned one this week. _I'll go ask them once I've finished setting up. Maybe Ranchan's hungry…_

"Good afternoon, Ukyo," a voice interrupted her musings. "Do you have a moment?"

The young chef turned her head toward the greeting, and was surprised to discover Akane's older sister standing a few feet away from her grill, with a single eyebrow arched as she awaited a reply.

Ukyo gave her an amiable smile as she started mixing the batter for her lunch. "Hi, Nabiki. What can I do for you?"

An answering pleasant smile crossed the short-haired girl's face. "I have a business matter I'd like to discuss with you."

This caused Ukyo's own eyebrow to quirk in curiosity. "Sure," she said, gesturing invitingly at the ground with her small spatula, "pull up a seat. Are you hungry?" She didn't know the older girl very well, but she'd heard enough to know that Nabiki liked to be treated to freebies when conducting business. Ukyo wasn't above a little bribery if it meant turning a situation in her favor.

The Tendo girl's smile widened a little. "If you're offering, I wouldn't complain about a seafood special. _Clever girl, knows what she's doing. I'll have to keep an eye on this one,_ she thought.

"Coming right up," Ukyo grinned, adding the toppings to her batter. "So, what's on your mind?"

Nabiki nodded, getting right to the point. "Well, as you may have heard, I'm in charge of the school play that's coming up, and I thought you might be interested in buying some ad-space in the program."

The younger girl's eyes widened in understanding. "I was wondering how you planned to squeeze a profit out of a high school play!" She'd overheard the boy who always went around in his theater costume talking about how Nabiki Tendo was going to 'save the drama club,' but hadn't been able to figure out the mercenary teen's angle. She poured the batter onto the sizzling grill. "It's not a bad idea, actually. How much would a full-page ad run me?"

Nabiki frowned thoughtfully, which startled Ukyo; she'd been expecting the other girl to quote her a price without blinking. She didn't have long to wonder at the young Tendo's uncharacteristic hesitation. "I don't think I have any more full-page slots available, actually. Preference for advertising space is given to cast members—you know how it is."

The okonomiyaki chef's eyes narrowed. "Who's taking all the good ad-space, then?"

A helpless shrug greeted her query. "Shampoo's got a restaurant to advertise, too."

"SHAMPOO!" Her shrill exclamation provoked more than a few alarmed glances from the students seated nearby. Ukyo lowered her voice to an angry hiss as she continued. "How can Shampoo be in the play? That hussy doesn't even _go_ to this school!"

In contrast to Ukyo's heated temper, Nabiki's demeanor remained cool and peaceful. "I've opened up the casting a bit," she explained gently. "Really, this is as much a community theater production now as it is a school play. That way, we get more visibility, access to a larger venue, and a bigger possible audience."

Grudgingly, she had to admit that Nabiki's idea had been a good one. She also realized that the wider audience made the program's advertising space all the more valuable. In an absentminded gesture, Ukyo flipped the okonomiyaki over on the grill; practicing her Art always helped to steady her emotions. _There's no way I'm going to lose that many potential customers to that Chinese floozy._ She looked up from her grill to meet Nabiki's even gaze. "Do you think you might find a part for me in the play?"

The older girl touched a finger to her lips as she thought. "Well, I _do_ have one role open," she admitted at last. "I don't see why you couldn't take it."

"Then could you find me space in the program for a full-page ad?" Ukyo asked shrewdly.

An amused smile curled the corner of Nabiki's mouth. "I think I could manage that," she agreed.

"Great," the chef said, deftly flipping the two okonomiyaki onto paper plates, and brushing some sauce on each one. She handed one of the plates to the other girl, who had her book bag open beside her, and was reaching in it for something. "I probably should've asked this before, but what's the play about?"

Nabiki pulled a clipboard out of her bag, with some papers already clipped to it. She took the food from Ukyo, and set the plate down on the grass next to her. "It's _A Midsummer Night's Dream_, a Shakespearean comedy. I'll need you to sign this," she said, holding the board out to the other girl.

Ukyo nodded. She was dimly familiar with the play; it was a romantic comedy of sorts, with some kind of spirits running around making trouble for the lovers. She glanced down at the document in her hand. "A contract?" she asked, already beginning to skim it.

"Most of it's fairly standard," Nabiki explained. "The actors agree not to try and kill each other, splash each other with cold water, cause wanton property destruction, or suddenly leave me with no one to fill their roles on opening night."

"Makes sense," Ukyo agreed, with half her attention still on the contract, "especially with people like Shampoo as part of the cast."

Her concentration was broken as the melodic chime of the school bell sounded across the grounds. Her head snapped up from the page. "What, already?" Indeed, students all around them were packing up their lunches and gathering their books to head back inside. Ukyo glanced over at Ranma and Akane; the pair were already on their feet, still talking softly, and walking back toward the school building. Hurriedly, she signed the document, handed it back to Nabiki, and started to pack up her grill. She'd have to eat on the way back to class.

The older girl replaced the contract in her bag, and pulled out a copy of the script with the name "Helena" written across the top margin. Seeing that Ukyo had her hands full, she told her, "Here's your script; I'll just put it with your stuff," and set the packet on top of the chef's book bag. "I'll talk to you later about rehearsals."

Nabiki heard the preoccupied girl mutter something that sounded vaguely like agreement, and she started back toward the school, munching contentedly on her free lunch. _Two more to go,_ she thought with a grin.

o o o

The afternoon sun beat down on Ryoga's back as he plodded wearily down the road. As usual, he had no idea where he was. The street beneath his feet was smoothly paved, suggesting that he was in a city, and the shops lining it on either side bore signs written in Japanese. He supposed that these facts were good omens, but he couldn't seem to muster the enthusiasm to be terribly glad of them. He had been traveling for days now, and for all he knew, he was on Kyushu. _I wish I could just find one sure sign that I'm at least close to where I want to be—_

He rounded a corner, and nearly plowed into Nabiki Tendo.

She was dressed in her Furinkan school uniform, but the scheming smile that formed on her lips when she recognized the boy in front of her was not one that belonged on the face of an innocent high-school girl. "Ryoga Hibiki!" she announced, "Just the man I've been hoping to find!"

This information sent conflicting signals coursing through his brain. A girl had just said that she'd been looking for him; this was generally regarded as a good thing. However, the girl in question was Nabiki Tendo, and that fact made him nervous in a way that was completely independent of his usual shyness around members of the opposite sex. He stared at her uncomprehendingly for a moment. "I-I am?" he finally stammered. "I mean, you were?"

"That's right," she affirmed. "I've been wanting to talk to you."

"You have?" Belatedly, he realized that he was asking a bunch of stupid questions about things she's already said. He cleared his throat, and tried again. "Um, about what?"

She looked amused, which he found irritating. "I've been organizing a play, as a fundraiser to help pay for some of the repairs around Nerima. I want you to participate in it; I've already got a role picked out for you."

Ryoga drew back in surprise. "What? Why me? I don't know anything about being in plays!"

The older girl's amusement faded. "Because, Hibiki, _you_ are single-handedly responsible for more destruction of property in this ward than the past half-dozen major earthquakes we've had."

"I am not!" he protested, raising his voice slightly. "Blame Ranma for that, not me!"

A skeptical eyebrow curved upward in response. "Oh? And I suppose it's _Ranma_ I always hear shouting 'BAKUSAI TENKETSU,' immediately followed by the spray of concrete shrapnel that used to be a sidewalk?"

"That's not my fault!" he retorted, "I mean, Ranma's always—"

"Or how about that huge crater in the field behind the high school, from that fight where you let off all those Shi Shi Hokodans?" she pressed.

He frowned. "That wasn't _entirely_ my fault, you know," he growled. "Maybe partly, but…"

"And the buildings in the neighborhood that suddenly sprout a series of finger-holes spelling out my sister's name every time you try to have a conversation with her?"

He felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment. "…Well, okay, maybe you've got a point," he allowed. "I guess I'll do it—"

"Not to mention all the innocent telephone poles, retaining walls, fountains, and pieces of statuary that happen to be in the wrong place when you decide to—"

"I SAID YES ALREADY! I'LL BE IN YOUR STUPID PLAY!"

Unperturbed by his shouting, the girl merely smiled. "I'm so glad we understand one another. I'll need you to sign this," she told him, holding out a document of some sort on a clipboard.

"Huh?" he asked, brought up short by the swift change in her expression. "What is it?"

"Standard actors' contract," she explained shortly. "Everyone who's going to be in the cast has to sign one."

"Oh." He hadn't been exaggerating earlier, when he'd told her that he knew nothing about plays. "Okay." He accepted a pen from her and put his neat signature at the bottom of the page.

"Good." She took the contract and pen from him and stowed them in her book bag. From the same bag she withdrew another stapled packet of paper. "Here's your script," she told him, pressing it into his empty hands. "_Don't lose it._" The order carried an unmistakable edge of menace that prompted him to nod mutely.

"Now," she said, grabbing him by the wrist, which confused him enough that he didn't resist her efforts to drag him along down the street, "come on."

"Wh-where are we going?"

"So many questions, Hibiki!" That amused expression was back; it still annoyed him. "Don't worry, it isn't far."

True to her word, they arrived at Nabiki's destination after only a few minutes. Ryoga looked up at the sign above the door to the building, and his brow furrowed in confusion. "This is Ukyo's restaurant," he told the Tendo girl.

"My, aren't you the clever one," she deadpanned in reply, pulling him inside.

Ukyo glanced up from behind the counter as she heard the door open. She had just put the 'Open' sign out a few minutes ago, after changing from her male school uniform into her more comfortable chef's outfit, and was expecting the after-school crowd to start trickling in any time now.

She blinked in surprise when she saw the pair that walked through her doorway. Ukyo had actually been half-expecting to see Nabiki today, since their discussion earlier had been cut short when the lunch period ended. And it certainly wasn't at all unusual for Ryoga to wander into her shop on his perpetual quest to find his way to the Tendo dojo. Her confusion came from was seeing the two of them together.

However, it never paid to look confused around Nabiki Tendo. _In fact, it usually costs you,_ the chef thought ruefully. And so, assuming that some form of explanation would be forthcoming shortly, Ukyo put on her best customer-service smile. "Hi, you two. What's up?"

"Hello, Ukyo," the older girl replied with a smile. "I just stopped by to drop off your Demetrius."

The okonomiyaki chef frowned. "My what?"

Simultaneously, Ryoga turned on Nabiki and demanded, "What do you mean, 'drop off'?"

Nabiki let out a patient sigh, as though she'd been expecting this reaction. She set her book bag down on one of the stools at the counter and retrieved from it a document, handing it to Ukyo. "The document you signed earlier; if you'll kindly refer to Section C, paragraph 17?"

Her frown deepening, Ukyo turned to the indicated page and began to read, working slowly through the dense legal jargon. "'As it is incumbent upon all the cast to expedite the smooth operation of all aspects of the production, the undersigned agrees to accept responsibility for the location and whereabouts of the actor undertaking the role opposite hers (hereafter referred to as "Demetrius") between rehearsals and performances for the duration of the run of the production. This responsibility includes (but is not limited to): providing lodging for Demetrius, personally supervising his movements when possible, and making adequate arrangements to ensure that Demetrius is not misplaced when personal supervision is not feasible.'"

She looked up at Nabiki, incredulity warring with anger on her face. "You expect me to baby-sit Ryoga for the whole run of this play?"

As Ukyo read from her contract, the young man in question glanced uneasily down at the script still clutched in his hands. Sure enough, the name "Demetrius" was written neatly across the top margin; they were talking about _him_.

He turned to growl at Nabiki, "What makes you think I'm going to agree to this?"

The short-haired girl smiled sweetly. "Why, Ryoga, you already have! Or would you like to take a look at Section D, paragraph 12 of the contract you signed for me a few minutes ago? Besides," she added in a smug tone that Ryoga decided was far more aggravating than the amused one, "if you were to walk out this door right now, how would you get to Furinkan High from here?"

"I—" he began, but his jaw snapped shut as he realized he didn't have the first clue how to answer her. He folded his arms and shot her a murderous glare.

Accepting this for the capitulation it was, Nabiki turned her attention back to the irate chef. "It'll only be for about a month, Ukyo," she told the other girl reasonably. "And since our rehearsal schedule is going to be intense, what with putting the whole play together in so short a time, we can't afford to have one of our actors disappear for two weeks on his way across the street. You'd feel kind of silly delivering your lines to an empty stage, wouldn't you?"

"But why does it have to be me?" Ukyo retorted. "Can't you find somebody else, who doesn't have a restaurant to run?"

Her query was met with a tolerant look. "Well I certainly can't do it, what with all the legwork involved in organizing and producing this play. Besides, if he stayed at the dojo, he and Ranma would be at each other's throats within five minutes, and nobody would get anything done. At least here, the two of you can work on your lines together."

That was the annoying thing about Nabiki Tendo; she made _sense_. "I knew I should have finished reading through that contract before I signed it," she muttered, handing the offending document back to its owner.

The older girl smiled. "Well, I think that's about it for now." She shouldered her book bag. "The rehearsal schedule isn't definite yet, but expect us to start tomorrow after school; you'll have time to stop back here and fetch your co-star." She waved pleasantly as she turned to go. "See you later!"

Ukyo watched her go, and then turned to look at Ryoga. The expression on his face made it seem as though he had his own personal storm-cloud hanging over his head. She sighed; customers would be streaming in at any moment, and he'd scare them away looking like that. "C'mon, sugar," she coaxed, flashing a friendly smile at him, "it's not so bad."

He dragged his gaze up from the floor to look at her. "Not so bad? A second ago you were furious about being stuck with me!"

She dismissed the accusation with a wave of her hand. "Nah, I just wasn't expecting to have a new house-guest dropped on me all of a sudden. It's not a big deal—unless," she narrowed her eyes, peering at him in exaggerated suspicion. "You don't snore, do you?"

"No!" he exclaimed, startled. Then he hesitated, cheeks coloring slightly. "I mean, well, I don't _think_ I do… It's not like there's ever anybody around to tell me whether I do or not…" _Not when I'm in human form, anyway,_ he thought with a twinge of guilt.

"Relax," she grinned, "I was just joking." _That seems to have pulled him out of his sulk, at least._ She turned the knob under the counter, firing up the grill. "So, you hungry?"

"Um, a little, I guess…" he started to reach for his wallet. "I don't really—"

"On the house," she cut him off with a gesture. "If you're going to be staying here anyway, I can afford to feed you, too."

Ryoga blushed again, more deeply this time. "I don't want to impose on you!" he protested. "I mean, you're already stuck with having me here. The least I can do is pay my own way."

The girl rolled her eyes. "If you're that worried about it, then maybe you could help me out around here a little, if you want. It's not like I couldn't use an extra pair of hands, waiting tables or washing dishes."

The cursed boy blanched at the thought of working over a sink, just one cold splash away from ending up on the menu. "I c-could probably wait tables," he stammered.

Ukyo smiled. _Even if he eats as much as Ranchan, covering his room and board out-of-pocket will still be cheaper than hiring an employee._ "Then it's settled." She brushed oil onto the grill surface, and reached for the batter. "So, what'll it be?"

"Oh! Um, can I have squid, please?"

The young chef was caught off-guard by Ryoga's sudden politeness. _Then again,_ she mused, _I haven't been around him much without Ranchan or Akane around. Well, except for when we won that vacation in that hot spring contest, but he seemed so depressed the whole time… I guess he's a fairly decent guy—when he's not being a complete jackass._ She took some sliced squid, and mixed it into the batter. "Coming right up!"


	5. And I Hope Here is a Play Fitted

Author's Note: Finally, the last "recruitment" chapter. Fans of Kasumi, stick around--the eldest Tendo girl puts in her first appearance! Once again, thanks to Lady Belegwen Lightningblade and Josey, for pre-reading, and thanks to MoonstoneCabbit for the review. I appreciate all my reviews; it brightens my day a little to know that people are reading, and letting me know what they think.

o o o

Chapter Five: And I Hope Here Is a Play Fitted

Nabiki tapped a few numbers into her calculator and pressed the enter key. _Finally, I'm done with this problem set._ As she copied the result of her last calculation into her notebook, she heard an odd scrabbling sound at her window.

"What the—?" Frowning slightly, she shoved her physics text aside and rose from where she'd been sprawled on the bed. When she unlatched her window to look outside, a small man in ninja garb tumbled in, and landed in a heap on her floor.

He realized that she was staring disapprovingly down at him, and sprang to his feet. "Nabiki Tendo!" he exclaimed. "I am Sasuke, servant of the Kuno household. My Master has sent me to retrieve—"

She cut him off with an exasperated sigh. "—His script for him, yes, I know." Never letting the ninja entirely out of her line of vision, Nabiki moved across the room to the foot of her bed, where she'd left her book bag. "Listen, Sasuke, you do realize that Kuno told me that you were coming, right? You could've come in the front door like a normal person."

Sasuke looked startled by this suggestion. "Ah, well, I didn't… that is to say, I thought—"

"Don't worry about it." She withdrew several documents from her book bag, and approached the uneasy servant. "Hey, now that you're here, let me ask you something. You know how badly your Master wants this play to succeed, right? Surely he's told you how important his part is."

The ninja blinked in confusion; in truth, he knew nothing about it. Master Kuno had merely ordered him to fetch some papers that the Tendo girl had waiting for him. "Well, of course, it's very important…" he replied helplessly.

"And as his loyal servant, it's your responsibility to aid your Master in his endeavors, isn't it?" she continued.

Sasuke swallowed nervously; he wasn't sure where this was going. "Well, yes, naturally—"

"There is still one role in the play that I haven't been able to cast," Nabiki confessed in a worried tone, "and the play can't go forward until that role is filled. I want you to consider taking the part."

"Me?" The small man leapt back, shocked. "I am but a humble servant, Miss Tendo! I can't be an actor—and certainly not without my Master's permission!"

The girl smiled diplomatically. "At least look over the role, before you decide. Here." She opened one of the documents she held, turning to a page roughly in the middle of the packet, and handed it to him. "The character's name is Puck; his lines are highlighted in orange. In that scene, he's talking about the character Kuno is playing, who is an actor preparing for the role of Pyramus."

His brows knitting together, Sasuke began to read over the lines that she had indicated. _"The shallowest thickskin of that barren sort, who Pyramus presented in their sport, forsook his scene and entered in a brake. When I did him at this advantage take, an ass's nole I fixèd on his head…"_ His eyes widened, and for a moment he drifted into a daydream. In his mind's eye he watched his master swagger about spouting poetry, his head replaced with that of a donkey.

Shaking away the idle thought, he looked up into Nabiki's face. "…And it would _help_ my Master, if I were to accept this role?" he asked earnestly.

"Oh, yes," the girl assured him, "in fact, I don't know how the play will go on if you don't."

"Well, if it's that important…" His gaze lingered over the pages in his hands. Abruptly he turned away, thrusting the script back toward Nabiki. "No! I simply can't agree to it, not without Master Kuno's consent!"

The Tendo girl's smile widened faintly, causing a tremor to shoot down his spine that reminded him of the way he felt when Mistress Kodachi told him that it was time to feed her pet alligator. "Fortunately, Tatewaki has already given his consent," she informed him.

The ninja blinked. "He has?"

She nodded. "In fact, he has pledged to support the success of this play in any way he can. In writing, no less."

"Well, in that case…" Sasuke's expression grew serious, and he held his chin in his hand for a few moments as he thought. At last, he nodded. "I'll do it! For Master Kuno's sake, of course," he added.

"Of course," Nabiki repeated, glancing down at the papers in her hands to hide a smirk. She handed one of the documents to him. "You'll need to sign that."

"Hm, what's this?" he asked, taking the paper from her. His eyes skimmed over it briefly before returning to her face, hesitation apparent in his gaze. "A contract?"

"Don't worry," she reassured him, smiling in a way that didn't remind him quite as much of a predatory beast on the prowl, "I wouldn't ask you to promise anything that would contradict your duties to your Master."

"Um. All right…" _She seems sincere enough,_ he thought. He signed his name at the bottom of the page, and placed the contract into her waiting hand.

"Very good. Now, here's Kuno's copy of the script," she said, holding out a set of stapled pages very similar to the one she'd already given him, except in that it bore the word "Bottom" in the upper margin. "And you've got yours. I think we're all set."

Sasuke had not served the Kuno family for all these years without learning to recognize a dismissal when he heard one. "Yes, Miss Tendo," he said while gathering up the two scripts, and bowed respectfully. Without another word, he leapt out the window and disappeared across the Nerima rooftops.

Nabiki watched him go, shaking her head slowly. "Really, he could've just used the front door."

o o o

Akane stretched her shoulders a little as she came down the stairs, pleased to find that her muscles hadn't started tightening up. _A good soak in the hot water usually manages to keep them loose, but I did sort of skip yesterday's workout_, she thought, a guilty blush darkening her face. _That was mostly Ranma's fault, anyway. I was only going to read through the play once before I went out to train. It's not my fault he needed almost _all_ of his lines explained to him!_

Still, if she were going to be honest with herself, it was kind of fun. He seemed genuinely interested in this play—he'd actually paid attention for most of the time they were going over the story, and the two of them didn't argue once.

She was smiling brightly by the time she entered the living room, where her fiancé had sprawled on the floor in front of the couch to read a manga. "Grab your script, Ranma," she told him, "I'd like to start working on our scenes."

"Huh?" He looked up from the book in his hands; it took a moment for him to process what she'd said. "Oh, alright." As he reached for his book bag, he noticed her turn to leave the room. "Akane? Where are you goin'?"

She stopped in the doorway, gesturing over her shoulder into the space beyond. "To the kitchen," she replied, "I thought we'd rehearse while I made dinner."

Ranma's eyes widened, and he could feel himself start to sweat. "Y-you're cookin' dinner?"

The short-haired girl's smile dissolved into a scowl. "Don't say it like that, Ranma! Anyway, it's just a simple stir-fry, and Kasumi went over the recipe with me three times. If you're that worried about it, then _you_ can make the rice!" She stuck out her tongue at him, before marching off into the kitchen.

"Jeez, all I did was ask a question," Ranma muttered sulkily, "stupid tomboy."

"_I heard that_, Ranma!" came a growl from the other room.

A panicked look shot across the pigtailed boy's features. _Aw, man! The only thing worse than Akane's cooking, is Akane's cooking when she's angry!_ He grabbed the script out of his bag and darted after her. "C'mon, Akane," he said, giving her his best charming grin, "let's rehearse!"

She was able to hold onto her angry glare for only a few moments, under the force of his smile. "Okay, then," she agreed, mollified. "Let's start with Act II, scene 2, when Hermia and Lysander enter the clearing where the fairies are watching."

Ranma seated himself on one of the high stools by the counter, and started flipping through his script. "That's after they've already run away together into the woods, right? You don't wanna start at the beginning?"

Turning on the heat under her skillet to warm the oil, Akane shook her head. "Then we'd have to worry about Egeus and Theseus and Helena, and I don't want to have to read any extra parts. We'll save the first act for tomorrow's rehearsal."

He nodded, finally finding the right page. "I guess that makes sense. Should I start, then?"

Akane checked her script, which was sitting open on the counter beside the stove. "Your line _is_ first."

"Right." He cleared his throat. "'Fair love, you faint with wand'ring in the wood; and to speak troth, I have forgot our way. We'll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good, and tarry for the comfort of the day.'"

Picking up the printed pages from the counter, she read off her first line in response. "'Be it so, Lysander. Find you out a bed, for I upon this bank will rest my head.'" With her free hand, Akane dumped the already-sliced strips of chicken into the oil, where they began to sizzle.

Ranma's eyes followed her movements. _Looks safe enough so far,_ he thought. _Maybe she really will manage to make something edible. And it's not like she can make too many mistakes with me watching, right?_ Reassured, he dropped his gaze to the script in his hands, finding his next highlighted line. "'One turf shall serve as pillow for us both, one heart, one bed, two bosoms, and one troth.'"

Regardless of her earlier promise, he half-expected his fiancée to call him a pervert for that one. Instead, she merely proceeded to her next line, "'Nay, good Lysander. For my sake, my dear, lie further off yet; do not lie so near.'"

His next line was a sizable block of text highlighted in red. Frowning a little in concentration, he began. "'O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence. Love takes the meaning in love's conference. I mean that my heart unto yours is knit, so that but one heart we can make of it.'"

The pigtailed boy was so intent on pronouncing his lines properly, that he didn't notice the faint blush creeping into Akane's cheeks as he spoke. Unfortunately, neither did he notice her reach for the soy sauce on the shelf above the stove, and in her distraction, grab a bottle of brandy that was sitting beside it instead. This she poured liberally into the skillet as Ranma continued: "'Two bosoms interchainèd with an oath, so then two bosoms and a single troth. Then by your side no bed room me deny, for lying so, Hermia, I do not lie.'"

Akane moistened her lips with her tongue before responding. "'Lysander riddles very prettily. Now much beshrew my manners and my pride if Hermia meant to say Lysander lied.'"

Ranma barely suppressed a snort. _Why can't that be true outside of the play?_ he thought.

Oblivious to his reaction, she continued. "'But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy lie further off, in human modesty. Such separation as may well be said becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid, so far be distant; and good night, sweet friend. Thy love ne'er alter till thy sweet life end.'"

As she finished the line, she looked up at him with a smile that made his breath catch in his throat. She looked so cute, with her face slightly flushed from the heat of the stove, and the smoke rising up behind her, curling around her hair—

—_Smoke?_ "Um, Akane?"

She frowned when he didn't continue the scene. _Is he still that uncomfortable in romantic scenes with me? It's not as though he has to mean it!_ "What is it, Ranma?" she snapped.

"…Should the chicken be on fire?"

"_WHAT?_" She whirled around to face the stove, and sure enough, there were leaping flames rising from the blackened chunks of meat. Akane felt hot tears pricking at her eyes. "How did—? I was so _sure_ this time!"

Meanwhile, her fiancé leapt into action, grabbing the skillet lid and dropping it over the top of the burning mess to suffocate the fire. Then he turned to look at Akane, to make sure she hadn't been burned. She seemed uninjured, but there were tears welling up in her brown eyes.

"Aw, c'mon Akane," he coaxed, "it's not so bad. Your cooking always turns into a disaster! At least nobody got sick this time—that's somethin', right?"

Her expression, which had begun to brighten when she realized that Ranma was trying to cheer her up, shifted into an angry scowl. "Ranma, you _jerk!_" she snarled, reaching for the nearest weapon to hand. Her fist closed around the handle of the heavy wooden cutting board that Kasumi had used when slicing the chicken earlier, and she slammed it down on her fiancé's head.

Rubbing at the lump rising on his head, the pigtailed boy glared at her. "What're ya gettin' mad at me for? It's not my fault your cooking stinks!"

He realized his mistake a moment too late, as the short-haired girl's battle aura flared red. She drew the heavy slab of wood back again, starting low as if she were making a tennis swing. "_RANMAAAAA!_" The next thing the boy knew, he was crashing through the kitchen window and sailing through the air in a perfect arc to land in the koi pond.

"Stupid tomboy," he muttered as he dragged himself out of the water, wincing at the sound of his now-female voice. "Why'd I ever think she was cute?"

o o o

Nabiki was going over the figures that Higo had given her for the drama club's budget when she heard a gentle tap at her bedroom door. "Come in," she called, looking up from her notebook to see Kasumi enter the room. Nabiki smiled at the older girl, and set her notes down on the bed beside her. "Hi, Big Sis. What's up?"

Kasumi's answering smile was warm and affectionate. "Nothing important, really. I just thought I'd drop in and see how things were coming with your play." At her sister's nod of invitation, she sat down gracefully on the other end of the bed. "I have to admit, I'm glad to see you getting involved in extracurricular activities. It makes me wish I'd participated more when I was still in school."

The short-haired girl stifled a chuckle. _She means "official" extracurriculars, of course. That's my big sister, always subtle._ Nabiki knew that the eldest Tendo girl didn't always approve of her less above-board after-school enterprises, though she never said anything outright. "Things have been going pretty well, actually," she replied. "I've gotten all of the roles cast, and a few minutes ago I finished making phone calls to let everyone know that rehearsals start tomorrow. I was just going over some numbers, to see how much in the way of advertising and props I can finesse out of the club's budget."

"That sounds exciting," Kasumi said. "What are you planning to do for costumes?"

Nabiki frowned a bit, thinking. "I'm still working that out," she confessed. "I haven't gone through the drama club's storage room yet, but Higo said they've never done Midsummer before, so the selection may be a bit limited." _And it'll probably take a sizable chunk of their budget to slap together some decent costumes,_ she thought ruefully.

"Hm. Maybe I can help," the older girl offered with a smile. "I'm certainly no professional seamstress, but I can do a bit more than just mending."

The middle Tendo's eyes widened slightly at the possibility. _You can do a lot more than just mending, Kasumi. You can practically work magic with a sewing machine!_ With her skills at work, they could manage quality costumes from a bag of scrap fabric and a few lucky finds from the thrift store. After a moment, though, Nabiki shook her head regretfully. "I can't ask you to do that, Sis. You already do so much, it wouldn't be right of me to have you take on more work."

Kasumi's smile brightened. "Don't be silly, Nabiki! It wouldn't be work at all, it would be fun! I'd like to feel involved in what you and Akane are doing. And besides," she said, leaning forward slightly and dropping her voice to what would have, for anyone other than Kasumi Tendo, been conspiratorial tones, "with Father and Mr. Saotome off training with Grandfather Happosai, there's so much less work for me around here, I feel like I need to do something else just to keep busy!"

"Well…" Had it been anyone else, Nabiki wouldn't have hesitated to take advantage of the offer. With Kasumi, however, it was different; the girl was just so genuinely _nice_ that it made her feel guilty to exploit her. She brought her eyes up to her sister's face. Though the older girl's expression was calm, there was a hint of eagerness in her eyes. _She really wants to be a part of this,_ Nabiki realized. "…I guess it would be all right, if you're sure it wouldn't be too much trouble for you."

Kasumi had been smiling before, but now her face truly lit up. "Oh, it won't be any trouble at all," she assured her sister. "Would it be convenient for me to drop by your rehearsal tomorrow to take measurements for fitting the costumes, or should I wait a while?"

"Tomorrow's fine," Nabiki replied. "We'll mostly be going over the ground rules and stuff anyway; I'll consider it a good day if we get one full read-through done. If you want, you can also sift through the drama club's stored costumes, and take anything you think you can use."

"All right," the other girl agreed cheerfully. "Why don't I go find some sketch paper, so we can sort out how you'd like the costumes to look? I've got a few ideas already, and I have some free time now. Akane volunteered to make dinner tonight."

Nabiki was about to reply, but the shrill, repeating peal of the smoke detector cut her off. She sighed. "So, I should call for takeout?"

A look of mild concern mingled with the otherwise serene expression on Kasumi's face. "…Perhaps that would be best."


End file.
